For Everything There is a Season
by Foibles and Fables
Summary: For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. A collection of Mark/Lexie vignettes based on the common experiences, events, and feelings in life.


**Okay, you know your Grey's obsession has gone too far when freaking _Bible verses_ begin to inspire you. Anyway, this is a collection of 28 (!) Mark/Lexie vignettes based on Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8. Before you wonder, none of them are religious in the least. The phrases are treated merely as prompts.**

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.  
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For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

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_A time to be born_

It happens every time he comes near, every time he touches the small of her back or the joint where her hip becomes her thigh and she can feel his warm hand through her clothes. It happens when he draws her in and kisses her, when he says her name in a thick groan or excited greeting. A feeling comes over her, like water trickling across her skin, tiny tendrils of invigoration lapping at every inch of her body. She opens her eyes and colors are vivid and everything is new and different, but still safe and right.

If she had been able to comprehend it, she would have compared it to being born.

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_A time to die_

The thought enters Mark's mind one night as he watches Lexie sleep. She's become so important, so central; she's worth so much. He gently touches her back and she shifts slowly before settling again, comfortable and warm.

He wonders. Would he die for her?

Probably not. He can't lie to himself and say that he would.

But he would come pretty damn close.

With that, he allows him to drift off to the same dreamy place she's at.

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_A time to plant_

Derek laughs heartily at Mark's statement of affection; more good-natured than anything, but not so warmly received.

"If you love her so much," he says in a teasingly childish voice, sneering at Mark, "why don't you marry her?"

Mark scowls and exhales huffily, crossing his arms over his chest. Not because Derek has just compromised his relationship with Lexie. Not because he's joked that Mark is incapable of true love. It's not anything like that.

It's because Derek just went and planted another damn seed.

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_A time to pluck up what is planted_

Once, she has a dream where it doesn't work out. He leaves her high and dry, moving on without remorse.

She sees him at the nurses' station, chatting up a new PA whose name she doesn't know. She's older than Lexie, with a mature face and confident demeanor. And she's attractive, that's for sure. Chestnut hair that gleams in the fluorescent light, a slender body, sparkling eyes, and tan skin. (When Lexie wakes up, she realizes that her mind conjured up a girl who looked suspiciously like that scrub nurse, Rose)

She sees the smirk crawl across his face, the glimmer in his eye that she once naively thought was reserved for her. The PA laughs, a tinkling sound, and touches his arm. She says something, and Lexie can't read lips, but it's pretty clear from Mark's smug reaction that she just aired an on-call room invitation. The woman leaves, and Mark watches her the whole time.

But before he follows, he makes eye contact with Lexie for an instant.

To look away is the hardest thing she's had to do.

When she comes out of sleep and into the real world to find Mark sleeping next to her, where he should be, an empty dread still fills her. It's the fear of one day having to uproot everything that's become second nature.

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_A time to kill_

Near the very end of her internship, Lexie joins the club and is directly responsible for a patient's death. A misread chart and an incorrect dosage of medicine are the culprits. He was somebody's something, a son and a father and a husband. He came in for a routine procedure and she took him away from his life. That doesn't even cover the legal aspect of the issue.

She wants to vomit.

Mark finds her in an on-call room, curled into a tight ball on the bed. She's not crying, just staring into space with unseeing eyes. Approaching slowly, he sits on the edge of the bed and gently touches her shoulder. She shudders at the contact. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and monotonous.

"I killed him."

"It was a simple mistake, Lexie." He smoothes her hair, but she doesn't look up at him.

"But I killed him. It was my fault, I…I should have paid more attention." She cringes, taking in a sharp and deep breath, biting her lip to keep a louder cry from coming.

Mark can't respond; he wishes he had an answer. There are no words that can take away her pain. He knows this from experience. But, just having someone there is enough to soften the blow just by the tiniest bit. So he holds her instead.

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_A time to heal_

Sometimes, and always only in fractions of minutes, Mark forgets that Addison exists. It honestly slips his mind that she's living her life just a few hours to the south, carousing with surfers and old friends. But, perhaps before he's ready for it, she always manages to force herself back into his mind and memory.

There was a time when he considered moving to Los Angeles after her. He pictured them on the beach together, both looking wonderful with a tan, attractive swimsuits, and aviator sunglasses. The sun would shine on them every day and they would be able to find some kind of happiness.

But, now, he's gladly traded interests. Swapped ginger hair for jet, blue eyes for brown, cool and collected for endearingly bumbling. Nowadays, he'll willingly take the cloudy skies of Seattle over the sunshine of Los Angeles on any given day. Especially when a certain someone else is underneath those gray skies.

(when those moments pass, he wonders if that's how it feels to be healed)

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_A time to break down_

One night, famished after a long shift, they go out for dinner. Mark takes her to a little bistro far away from the hospital, far from the influence of their coworkers and friends. They love them, of course, but it's apparent that some of their friends still aren't convinced by their relationship.

In the twilit restaurant, amongst the soft chatter of fellow diners and clinking of glasses, they look over the menus at their table for two. Lexie slips a foot out of her shoe and slowly strokes Mark's leg from across the table. Their eyes meet over the tops of their menus and they give one another mirroring smirks.

"I'm pretty sure Meredith's on her way to a mental breakdown," Lexie comments from out of left field, a testament to the events of the day. "I swear, Dr. Stevens had her try on about twenty dresses today. By the end of it, she looked like she needed more than a few shots. I think she's really starting to freak out about this whole wedding thing."

Mark laughs, a sound that would have been louder if they weren't at a swanky restaurant. "You're right, she's probably going to spend the night with Jose Cuervo," he says, grinning. "But, you know, I think that's why Meredith and I get along. I'm not down with the whole big wedding thing, in a church with bagpipes and all that. It's not her, and I empathize." He laughs again and Lexie does too; his laughter is genuine, her laughter is uneasy.

Well, at least she knows now.

She looks back down at the menu, masking her disappointment, focusing her attention on the food. She slides her foot back into her shoe. The grilled chicken sounds good.

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_A time to build up_

With Lexie, he thinks before he speaks. With Lexie, he thinks before he acts. Their relationship means more to him than others have. He's truly afraid of losing her. He approaches it like a house of cards or a tower of blocks; while building it up, the slightest slip could cause the whole thing to fall to pieces.

And he's got a huge block to place on top of the tower. It's an idea that's been circulating in his mind for a while, something he's surprised he wants, that's grown and grown until now when he can't possibly contain it for any longer. He's thought it over, and he's discovered that there will never be a perfect time to say it. So, it's now or never.

"Lexie." She looks up from her book and smiles at him.

"What?"

Mark takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He opens his mouth and forces himself to speak around the nervous knot in his stomach. "I think we should move in together," he blurts, the words stringing together with an atypical lack of confidence.

He watches her reaction: her eyes widen, breath quickens, and cheeks flush. She touches her hair. Then, the biggest smile breaks across her face, forcing him to grin right along with her in relief.

The block has been successfully placed. Another barrier broken, another level reached.

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_A time to weep_

His eyes are squinty and half-closed but unmistakably blue. Part of her hopes they'll eventually turn hazel but the other part hopes they'll stay exactly the way they are. She strokes the wispy blonde hair atop his head. His cheeks are rosy, tears traveling down them for the first time, and his mouth is wide open in a cry that should be grating but is instead the most incredible noise Lexie has ever heard.

She looks up at the owner of the strong arms encircling her, at the face she's sure is identical to how the other is one day going to look. He's staring down at the tiny new person, their tiny new person, with a small smile. She might be mistaken, but there might be a tear caught in the corner of his eye. Some are threatening at hers as well.

She never would have thought that tears could be so beautiful.

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_A time to laugh_

"There was the time that I put his frog in the microwave," Mark says smugly. Lexie giggles, resting her head against the pillow. Mark rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his arm. "And then there was the day when Mrs. Shepherd almost caught us looking at porno mags. Derek blushed for days after that one." Her laugh becomes louder and she places a hand on her forehead.

Mark knows how to break her. He smirks. He pauses for effect before throwing in the _piece de resistance_:

"See, before he discovered what mousse was, Derek used to have this crazy afro thing going on…"

It takes a second for the image to appear in her mind before Lexie howls, grabbing the pillow from behind her and holding it against her face to muffle her explosion of laughter. She laughs until she can't breathe, and Mark smiles in satisfaction. She snorts loudly. It's a wonderful noise.

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_A time to mourn_

After Mark gets the phone call, he sits for a long time. He stares blankly at the wall, chin resting in his hands, expression unchanging for a good while.

"Are you okay?" Lexie asks gently, almost too hesitantly, sitting in the chair beside him.

"I'm fine." It's bullshit and she knows it. But she won't dig.

"Are you going to see them?" she questions again after a moment, just loud enough for him to hear her, barely touching his arm. "See your mom? I mean, if it was my dad, even with all the shit he put me through, I'd be there for my family." She doesn't mean it to insult, only to offer a suggestion.

Mark grimaces, shrugging away from her hand. "I don't owe them anything, I don't owe him anything," he says, and there's such a bitter pain beneath the feigned apathy that it takes Lexie's breath. He stands, eyes fixed on the carpet at his feet. "I'm not going. And I'm fine." He leaves, then, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

It's the second time he said it, and it didn't sound any different from the first. Lexie sighs. She has no choice but to believe him, even though she doesn't.

(That night, out of an old habit, she locks the liquor cabinet; she won't lose another loved one that way)

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_A time to dance_

The inevitable happens: Mark and Derek get plastered at the wedding reception. They're dancing together (if one could really call how they're moving _dancing_) to the upbeat tempo of the song blasting from the speakers, making embarrassing noises. The congregation of friends and family are circled around them, hysterical. For some, it's the first time they've seen such a spectacle, and for others, it's far from it.

Meredith and Lexie catch laughing eyes and nod. Throwing back whatever's left of the drinks in their hands, they go and join their men.

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_A time to throw away stones_

Not long after their first encounter, pieces of themselves and their pasts began to fly out of them with abandon.

"I'm allergic to eggs."

"I'm an only child."

"I've never broken a bone."

"I lost my virginity to Nancy Shepherd."

"Sometimes I pretend I have a good singing voice."

"I can't resist a woman with soft skin."

It's nice to have somebody new to confide in.

Lexie starts using extra moisturizer.

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_A time to gather stones together_

"Derek and Meredith are building a house."

"I know. I was there when he showed her the blueprints. How come?"

"I was just saying."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

A pause.

"…do you want to build a house or something?"

"Not particularly."

"Okay."

"Do _you_ want to build a house or something?"

"Nope."

"Yeah. Good."

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_A time to embrace_

Lexie sneaks up behind him, as quick and quiet as a lioness about to take her prey. She reaches for his with outstretched arms, wrapping them tightly around his midsection. She rests her head between his shoulders and squeezes.

Mark looks over his shoulder at his assailant before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. She sighs, smiling contentedly, and he can feel her chest expand against his back. It's simple but it's nice. Nothing he used to enjoy.

Mark's finally learning why women love hugs so much.

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_A time to refrain from embracing_

He allows his eyes to wander her body, lusty and hot. She's looking particularly good in her scrubs today. His gaze switches between her breasts, hips, ass, and eyes in a regular pattern as he fantasizes about dropping what he's doing, grabbing her, and taking her into the nearest supply to fuck her right then and there.

The only thing stopping him? The fact that Richard Weber's eyes are on him right now as intently as his own are on Lexie.

He sighs in frustration and defeat. He'll have to wait until later. At this point, he's not so sure if he'll make it.

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_A time to seek_

"Oh, were you looking for me?" he asks nonchalantly, smiling with fake innocence, as she locks the on-call room door behind her and takes off her shirt. She laughs sarcastically and tosses it over her shoulder.

"Shut up," she says as she climbs on top of him and kisses him hungrily.

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_A time to lose_

"I don't want to scare you off," he whispers in the dark, his hands sliding against her warm bare skin. "I've been thinking about it, and I really don't want to lose you."

Her heart swells.

"You won't."

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_A time to keep_

He's in the cafeteria when he receives a text message from Lexie:

_OMG, still in the on-call room. Can't find my underwear. I've looked everywhere. This isn't good. Any clue where they are???_

Mark smirks and reaches into his pocket, weaving the lacy material of her panties around his fingers. He glances down, and the maroon color of the fabric is a start contrast to the flesh of his hand.

Chuckling to himself, he types a reply:

_I don't know_._ Don't worry about it, happens all the time. Go commando, it's sexy_

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_A time to throw away_

One of the first things Mark learned (and one of the few things his parents taught him), as was the case with many young children, was that one doesn't throw away nice things. You throw away garbage: spoiled food, used tissues, old magazines. If you put nice things or things you really like in the trash can, they're taken away and you'll probably never see them again.

Thirty-some years later, the lesson remains true. Lexie is a nice thing. Mark really likes her. He won't willingly throw her away. He wants to keep her.

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_A time to tear_

He knew he had to end it before it blew up in his face. It was a lapse in logic and reason, the surprise visit and striptease caught him off-guard. He gave in and slept with her. But, at least it happened and was over. He'd be able to make a clean tear, give a good yank away from her to leave even edges, stop it from becoming anything more than a one-time accident. No hard feelings, no misunderstandings.

But, when he sees her the next morning, sees her smile and eyes and hears the voice that called out his name so many times last night, he realizes that a clean tear might not be possible.

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_A time to sew_

One day, Lexie models her bridesmaid dress for him. She asks for his opinion. He merely places his hands on her hips from behind, looking at the two of them in the mirror, and kisses her where her jaw meets her ear. Her eyes flutter closed. He traces his fingertips against the skin of her back that the dress has left bare.

"I hope you know how to sew," he whispers lustily, lips brushing against her earlobe, "because after the reception, that thing is being ripped off of you."

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_A time to keep silence_

The door of the exam room safely locked, Lexie's on the table and Mark's standing in front of her, both naked. He stops moving his fingers, halts their movement on her clit, earning himself a harsh feminine growl and smack on the ass. Her fingernails dig into the flesh and he grins.

"We have to be quiet," he warns, circling the tiny spot once with his index finger. "We don't want to be heard."

He enters her and she whispers his name urgently, a choked gasp. On the inside, it's a scream.

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_A time to speak_

He speaks.

He sees the flash of lightning in Derek's eyes.

The sudden pain in his face is a reminder that this is really happening. He's doing it. He's coming clean.

He accepts it. It hurts but it's good.

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_A time to love_

"So I'll see you later, okay?" he says, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and heading for door.

"Yeah." She hesitates. "Mark?"

He turns. "What?"

"Nothing." He raises an eyebrow but steps toward the door again. Her mouth opens and more words spill out.

"Wait. Mark." He sighs and spins around to look at her again. The three words, the eight letters, dance on the tip of her tongue, waiting to jump out of her mouth and into the open.

She shakes her head. She can't go through with it. It's not time yet. "Never mind."

He leaves and closes the door. She laughs at herself.

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_A time to hate_

He wonders if Lexie hates Addison. If she did, he wouldn't blame her. Sometimes, he hates O'Malley and Karev.

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_A time for war_

Lexie stands unwaveringly before him as he lies, listless, on the bed. "You know, I bought it at first, but the self-pity and inferiority complex are getting a bit old," she says firmly. "So you're not Derek. Woe is you. You're _not_ Derek. Don't get all depressed and complain about it, do something to make it better."

With an angry sigh, he rolls over onto his stomach and refuses to acknowledge her. Groaning, Lexie walks into the other room. She got her message across.

It's a Pyrrhic victory, but a victory nonetheless.

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_A time for peace_

After an afternoon of the kind of slow, heady sex that comes easily to them now, they stand on the Archfield room's balcony, basking in the orange glow of an uncommonly clear Seattle sunset. In their bathrobes, a glass of champagne in their hands, they watch the world around them. Cars pass on the roads below, lights in different windows glow, and they swear that they can see Seattle Grace Hospital.

People are living their lives, fighting their battles, carrying their burdens. And here they are, in a peaceful moment without the disturbances of everyday life. Sequestered in their own little world, everything looks lovely.

He wraps his arms around her and they make it last as long as they can.


End file.
